


Galatea

by wripinil (wripinel)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Pygmalion and Galatea (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 23:48:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wripinel/pseuds/wripinil
Summary: Riza is a sculptor in 16th century Italy who carves a statue and calls it "Envy." One night she kisses the statue — and it kisses back.





	Galatea

**Author's Note:**

> Please, I beg of you, read "Nor Iron Bars a Cage" by The_Dancing_Walrus
> 
> You won't regret it.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/860537

It was past midnight in the dusty studio of little-known artist Riza Hawkeye. 

By candlelight she carved away at what, a few months ago, had been a life size pillar of marble. Her work was nearly complete. All that remained were the last fine details, and then the smoothing of the granulated surface.

She wiped the sweat from her brow and set down her tools. Rubbing at her eyes, she stepped back a few paces to circle around her work, looking for areas she might have missed. 

The image was of a young man with solid musculature and long wild spikes of hair. He was shorter than Riza's height, but looked taller atop his raised platform. His features were delicate but harsh, every angle too exaggerated, much like his sharp hair. Normally Riza would have smoothed the spikes into soft flowing locks, but...she'd rather liked the look of them in the first stage and was reluctant to change them.

He wore a strange tunic divided into two pieces, the top part tight against his chest and exposing his abdomen, and the second half barely draped over his hips. Stone fabric wrapped around his forearms and calves, leaving his fingers and toes exposed. 

She could never sell this, no one would ever buy it. Why then had she bothered to make this strange figure, why did she sacrifice sleep over bringing him into the world?

She took up one of the candles and held it closer to his face, inspecting. She'd finished everything else already, from the dips of his knees to the crescents of his fingernails, but she'd saved the face for last. 

Perhaps she should save it for tomorrow and get some sleep. But...the urge to finish now was so strong...

She took up her tools once again.

 

Outside in the dark, birds had begun chirping. Riza had spent the last few hours softening the curves of his cheeks and nose, sharpening the harsh edges of his eyes, carving out the delicate lines of his lips like flower petals, the fold of his ears like seashells.

She was now sanding and polishing the surface of the stone, making it silky to the touch. 

As morning began to show, and filled up the studio from the skylights above, she stepped back again to see him fully once again. Finished this time.

His lifeless marble eyes were frozen in a moment of curious contemplation, as if something had caught their attention.

She shook her head and got her broom from the corner of the broom, sweeping up the dust and stone shards. Tomorrow she would go back to being practical and start a new project for a patron, one that paid her well. His name was Roy Mustang and his army salary afforded her this studio and her food.

 

~ ~ ~ 

[Unwritten scenes:]

[In the morning Riza looks at the statue and finds herself taken with her new creation. She has breakfast near him, talking to him like a real person.]

[The next day Roy comes to visit, and seems jealous of how much attention she pays to the strange statue, now painting red lines over its shoulders and a Greek symbol on its thigh. He still supports her work of course, but he's finally back from being at war abroad for the last year and he wanted to take her out for lunch, and is hurt by how she rebuffs his flirtations and instead prefers to finish up this strangely erotic work of art. She tells him she's finished what he paid her to do: A series of beautiful life size portraits of mythological figures that line the wall of her studio. She doesn't understand his interest in her. He pays her for another year's worth of work, commissioning more portraits from her, and she thanks him. As he leaves, she paints lines on her statue's headband, and teasingly calls him "Envy" for making Roy jealous.]

[The next night:]

~ ~ ~

Riza woke from a nightmare, anxious and out of breath. She didn't remember the specifics, only that it was about her father again, and the pain of his needles on her spine.

_"You are my greatest work of art, Riza. On your back you will carry my legacy forever..."_

She shook her head, and squeezed at her shoulders, shivering in her sheets. She got up from her bedding on the floor of the studio, and went to the corner to unwrap her breakfast of cheese and bread from its wax cloth. 

Everything she knew about art she'd learned from her father. He was a great man, a genius who'd died unknown and uncelebrated. His studio had burned down shortly thereafter, leaving only what remained on her back to showcase who he'd been.

Riza shuddered and went outside to gather water and bathe.

 

When she came back, skin scrubbed clean with a cloth, Envy was glowing in the dim morning rays from where he stood in the center of the studio. She folded her arms and tilted one hip as she smiled at him.

"You like being the center of attention don't you?"

She came closer and traced along the lines and circles she'd painted yesterday on his forehead and over the backs of his shoulders. "I hope you don't mind I made these, I don't know why I did it. It just...seemed right for some reason. But I've never seen them anywhere else before."

She ran her hands over the surface of his clothing, tracing the rounded edges. 

"It seems silly, but...I hope it felt nice for you to be painted on. Perhaps it tickled a bit, but I don't want you to be hurt by me decorating you."

Memories of the dream pricked at the corners of her eyes, her father's "legacy." The sharp stings of the needle inserted into her skin again and again, for hours, for days, for weeks. 

She wiped at her eyes, chasing away the thoughts. That was all in the past now. No point in bringing it up again. 

"Envy...I'm glad I made you. I'm glad you're here, and that you're someone I can talk to."

Unless she stood on a little ladder, his marble platform made him half a foot taller than her. A strange affection swelled up in her heart, making her sentimental for this unbreathing creation of hers. Carving this figure had comforted her in the night and kept the memories away until she passed out at dawn. She hadn't really put anything of herself into this art, but it had come to life before her, become its own entity with its own preferences and style. She almost wondered if a little voice hadn't been whispering to her, telling her what to do. To keep the hair strands sharp, to emphasize the musculature. To paint the red lines...

If she tilted her head up, she could...just barely reach...

She kissed him.

She closed her eyes and felt the coolness of his lips, how firm they were. Unmoving. But she didn't move either. Closing her eyes, she almost became like a statue herself, wishing she could be one with this figure, even just for this moment, to join him and bridge the worlds that separated them.

Unknown to Riza in her stillness, a strange, almost peach-like color had begun moving up the statue. It started at the statue's toes, then worked its way up his legs and hips and stomach, across his shoulders and arms, down his fingers. It traveled up his neck and finally reached his face.

His skin was warming up. But against her lips, Riza thought it was simply her own heat transferring to the stone.

Still, something had changed. His lips had transitioned from hard and smooth to softer and more pliable, and...responsive...her eyes flew open at the brush of his hand against her cheek.

But when his lips moved against hers and his fingers curled behind her head, she embraced the insanity for a moment and let her hands come up to hold the sides of his waist. She heard the statue take a breath through his nose, felt the lips opening against hers, heat inside. 

Tears slipped down her cheeks and she wished more than anything that this was really happening, and not just a dream.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Envy's first breath happened against his creator's lips. His eyes softly blinked and opened, and he saw her own eyes were closed. So he closed his too. He smiled at the feeling of her love, he could feel it blossoming through his veins, bringing him to life. And he brought his hand up to touch her face, grateful to her and wishing to show his love too.

 

 


End file.
